Paradiso: Canto XXIIOppressed with stupor, I unto my guideTurned like a little child who always runsFor refuge there where he confideth most;And she, even as a mother who straightwayGives comfort to her pale and breathless boyWith voice whose wont it is to reassure him,Said to me: “Knowest thou not thou art in heaven,And knowest thou not that heaven is holy allAnd what is done here cometh from good zeal?After what wise the singing would have changed theeAnd I by smiling, thou canst now imagine,Since that the cry has startled thee so much,In which if thou hadst understood its prayersAlready would be known to thee the vengeanceWhich thou shalt look upon before thou diest.The sword above here smiteth not in hasteNor tardily, howe’er it seem to himWho fearing or desiring waits for it.But turn thee round towards the others now,For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see,If thou thy sight directest as I say.”As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned,And saw a hundred spherules that togetherWith mutual rays each other more embellished.I stood as one who in himself repressesThe point of his desire, and ventures notTo question, he so feareth the too much.And now the largest and most luculentAmong those pearls came forward, that it mightMake my desire concerning it content.Within it then I heard: “If thou couldst seeEven as myself the charity that burnsAmong us, thy conceits would be expressed;But, that by waiting thou mayst not come lateTo the high end, I will make answer evenUnto the thought of which thou art so chary.That mountain on whose slope Cassino standsWas frequented of old upon its summitBy a deluded folk and ill-disposed;And I am he who first up thither boreThe name of Him who brought upon the earthThe truth that so much sublimateth us.And such abundant grace upon me shoneThat all the neighbouring towns I drew awayFrom the impious worship that seduced the world.These other fires, each one of them, were menContemplative, enkindled by that heatWhich maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.Here is Macarius, here is Romualdus,Here are my brethren, who within the cloistersTheir footsteps stayed and kept a steadfast heart.”And I to him: “The affection which thou showestSpeaking with me, and the good countenanceWhich I behold and note in all your ardours,In me have so my confidence dilatedAs the sun doth the rose, when it becomesAs far unfolded as it hath the power.Therefore I pray, and thou assure me, father,If I may so much grace receive, that IMay thee behold with countenance unveiled.”He thereupon: “Brother, thy high desireIn the remotest sphere shall be fulfilled,Where are fulfilled all others and my own.There perfect is, and ripened, and complete,Every desire; within that one aloneIs every part where it has always been;For it is not in space, nor turns on poles,And unto it our stairway reaches up,Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away.Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw itExtending its supernal part, what timeSo thronged with angels it appeared to him.But to ascend it now no one upliftsHis feet from off the earth, and now my RuleBelow remaineth for mere waste of paper.The walls that used of old to be an AbbeyAre changed to dens of robbers, and the cowlsAre sacks filled full of miserable flour.But heavy usury is not taken upSo much against God’s pleasure as that fruitWhich maketh so insane the heart of monks;For whatsoever hath the Church in keepingIs for the folk that ask it in God’s name,Not for one’s kindred or for something worse.The flesh of mortals is so very soft,That good beginnings down below suffice notFrom springing of the oak to bearing acorns.Peter began with neither gold nor silver,And I with orison and abstinence,And Francis with humility his convent.And if thou lookest at each one’s beginning,And then regardest whither he has run,Thou shalt behold the white changed into brown.In verity the Jordan backward turned,And the sea’s fleeing, when God willed were moreA wonder to behold, than succour here.”Thus unto me he said; and then withdrewTo his own band, and the band closed together;Then like a whirlwind all was upward rapt.The gentle Lady urged me on behind themUp o’er that stairway by a single sign,So did her virtue overcome my nature;Nor here below, where one goes up and downBy natural law, was motion e’er so swiftThat it could be compared unto my wing.Reader, as I may unto that devoutTriumph return, on whose account I oftenFor my transgressions weep and beat my breast,—Thou hadst not thrust thy finger in the fireAnd drawn it out again, before I sawThe sign that follows Taurus, and was in it.O glorious stars, O light impregnatedWith mighty virtue, from which I acknowledgeAll of my genius, whatsoe’er it be,With you was born, and hid himself with you,He who is father of all mortal life,When first I tasted of the Tuscan air;And then when grace was freely given to meTo enter the high wheel which turns you round,Your region was allotted unto me.To you devoutly at this hour my soulIs sighing, that it virtue may acquireFor the stern pass that draws it to itself.“Thou art so near unto the last salvation,”Thus Beatrice began, “thou oughtest nowTo have thine eves unclouded and acute;And therefore, ere thou enter farther in,Look down once more, and see how vast a worldThou hast already put beneath thy feet;So that thy heart, as jocund as it may,Present itself to the triumphant throngThat comes rejoicing through this rounded ether.”I with my sight returned through one and allThe sevenfold spheres, and I beheld this globeSuch that I smiled at its ignoble semblance;And that opinion I approve as bestWhich doth account it least; and he who thinksOf something else may truly be called just.I saw the daughter of Latona shiningWithout that shadow, which to me was causeThat once I had believed her rare and dense.The aspect of thy son, Hyperion,Here I sustained, and saw how move themselvesAround and near him Maia and Dione.Thence there appeared the temperateness of Jove’Twixt son and father, and to me was clearThe change that of their whereabout they make;And all the seven made manifest to meHow great they are, and eke how swift they are,And how they are in distant habitations.The threshing-floor that maketh us so proud,To me revolving with the eternal Twins,Was all apparent made from hill to harbour!Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes I turned.
Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guideTurned like a little child who always runsFor refuge there where he confideth most;
And she, even as a mother who straightwayGives comfort to her pale and breathless boyWith voice whose wont it is to reassure him,
Said to me: “Knowest thou not thou art in heaven,And knowest thou not that heaven is holy allAnd what is done here cometh from good zeal?
After what wise the singing would have changed theeAnd I by smiling, thou canst now imagine,Since that the cry has startled thee so much,
In which if thou hadst understood its prayersAlready would be known to thee the vengeanceWhich thou shalt look upon before thou diest.
The sword above here smiteth not in hasteNor tardily, howe’er it seem to himWho fearing or desiring waits for it.
But turn thee round towards the others now,For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see,If thou thy sight directest as I say.”
As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned,And saw a hundred spherules that togetherWith mutual rays each other more embellished.
I stood as one who in himself repressesThe point of his desire, and ventures notTo question, he so feareth the too much.
And now the largest and most luculentAmong those pearls came forward, that it mightMake my desire concerning it content.
Within it then I heard: “If thou couldst seeEven as myself the charity that burnsAmong us, thy conceits would be expressed;
But, that by waiting thou mayst not come lateTo the high end, I will make answer evenUnto the thought of which thou art so chary.
That mountain on whose slope Cassino standsWas frequented of old upon its summitBy a deluded folk and ill-disposed;
And I am he who first up thither boreThe name of Him who brought upon the earthThe truth that so much sublimateth us.
And such abundant grace upon me shoneThat all the neighbouring towns I drew awayFrom the impious worship that seduced the world.
These other fires, each one of them, were menContemplative, enkindled by that heatWhich maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.
Here is Macarius, here is Romualdus,Here are my brethren, who within the cloistersTheir footsteps stayed and kept a steadfast heart.”
And I to him: “The affection which thou showestSpeaking with me, and the good countenanceWhich I behold and note in all your ardours,
In me have so my confidence dilatedAs the sun doth the rose, when it becomesAs far unfolded as it hath the power.
Therefore I pray, and thou assure me, father,If I may so much grace receive, that IMay thee behold with countenance unveiled.”
He thereupon: “Brother, thy high desireIn the remotest sphere shall be fulfilled,Where are fulfilled all others and my own.
There perfect is, and ripened, and complete,Every desire; within that one aloneIs every part where it has always been;
For it is not in space, nor turns on poles,And unto it our stairway reaches up,Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away.
Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw itExtending its supernal part, what timeSo thronged with angels it appeared to him.
But to ascend it now no one upliftsHis feet from off the earth, and now my RuleBelow remaineth for mere waste of paper.
The walls that used of old to be an AbbeyAre changed to dens of robbers, and the cowlsAre sacks filled full of miserable flour.
But heavy usury is not taken upSo much against God’s pleasure as that fruitWhich maketh so insane the heart of monks;
For whatsoever hath the Church in keepingIs for the folk that ask it in God’s name,Not for one’s kindred or for something worse.
The flesh of mortals is so very soft,That good beginnings down below suffice notFrom springing of the oak to bearing acorns.
Peter began with neither gold nor silver,And I with orison and abstinence,And Francis with humility his convent.
And if thou lookest at each one’s beginning,And then regardest whither he has run,Thou shalt behold the white changed into brown.
In verity the Jordan backward turned,And the sea’s fleeing, when God willed were moreA wonder to behold, than succour here.”
Thus unto me he said; and then withdrewTo his own band, and the band closed together;Then like a whirlwind all was upward rapt.
The gentle Lady urged me on behind themUp o’er that stairway by a single sign,So did her virtue overcome my nature;
Nor here below, where one goes up and downBy natural law, was motion e’er so swiftThat it could be compared unto my wing.
Reader, as I may unto that devoutTriumph return, on whose account I oftenFor my transgressions weep and beat my breast,—
Thou hadst not thrust thy finger in the fireAnd drawn it out again, before I sawThe sign that follows Taurus, and was in it.
O glorious stars, O light impregnatedWith mighty virtue, from which I acknowledgeAll of my genius, whatsoe’er it be,
With you was born, and hid himself with you,He who is father of all mortal life,When first I tasted of the Tuscan air;
And then when grace was freely given to meTo enter the high wheel which turns you round,Your region was allotted unto me.
To you devoutly at this hour my soulIs sighing, that it virtue may acquireFor the stern pass that draws it to itself.
“Thou art so near unto the last salvation,”Thus Beatrice began, “thou oughtest nowTo have thine eves unclouded and acute;
And therefore, ere thou enter farther in,Look down once more, and see how vast a worldThou hast already put beneath thy feet;
So that thy heart, as jocund as it may,Present itself to the triumphant throngThat comes rejoicing through this rounded ether.”
I with my sight returned through one and allThe sevenfold spheres, and I beheld this globeSuch that I smiled at its ignoble semblance;
And that opinion I approve as bestWhich doth account it least; and he who thinksOf something else may truly be called just.
I saw the daughter of Latona shiningWithout that shadow, which to me was causeThat once I had believed her rare and dense.
The aspect of thy son, Hyperion,Here I sustained, and saw how move themselvesAround and near him Maia and Dione.
Thence there appeared the temperateness of Jove’Twixt son and father, and to me was clearThe change that of their whereabout they make;
And all the seven made manifest to meHow great they are, and eke how swift they are,And how they are in distant habitations.
The threshing-floor that maketh us so proud,To me revolving with the eternal Twins,Was all apparent made from hill to harbour!
Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes I turned.